Page 88 of Refuge for Flora

“Hi. Listen, there’s somebody out front in a truck. Mrs.Murphy says they’ve been sitting there for two hours.”

“What?”

“Yeah. What do I do?”

“You call 9-1-1 and tell them to send a deputy. And you tell them I told you to do that. Okay? Right now.”

“Okay. I will. Thanks. Wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there too. I’ll be done in a little while, but everything is going to plan. It’ll all be over soon.”

“Good.” Why didn’t that make her feel the least bit better? “Please hurry.”

“I will. Driving as fast as I can. See you in a bit. Bye, babe.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Flora ended the call and sat there, wondering what to do, when there was a banging on the front door, and she took a look out the window again. The truck was empty. Her eyes swept toward Mrs.Murphy. “What do I do?” she hissed.

Mrs.Murphy’s reply was a whisper. “Ask ‘em through the door what they want.” Flora could feel herself shaking when she saw Mrs.Murphy lift the ancient shotgun. “Go on. Ask ‘em. But stay the fuck outta my way.”

Flora’s throat was tight with fear and almost came out as a squeak. “Who is it?”

“I’m looking for FloraStevens.”

“Ain’t no FloraStevens in here,” Mrs.Murphy called back.

“Didn’t know there was somebody with ya. Might as well come out. I’m comin’ in to get ya, and if you come on out, nobody’ll get hurt.”

Mrs.Murphy shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Out the back. I’ll stall.”

Flora didn’t know what to do. She was responsible for Mrs.Murphy, but in that moment, fear was all she could feel. She ran to the back door, turned the knob slowly, and opened it a crack. “You comin’ out?” the man called out.

“She ain’t comin’ out. You’ll have to bring yore sorry ass in here,” Mrs.Murphy yelled.

“Well, if that’s the way you want it.” Flora could hear him banging on the door, most likely throwing his weight against it, and the noise was so loud that she slipped out the door and down the steps, knowing he’d never hear her. She’d passed through the brush and was headed toward the perimeter of the field when she heard them?gunshots. In that split second, her foot caught something and she went down, but she scrambled to her feet and kept running. She was closing on the rough side of the field?one hundred feet, seventy-five feet, fifty feet, twenty-five feet. If she could make it into that thicket…

The greenery closed around her just as she heard a voice yell, “Flora! Get yore ass back here! You ain’t gonna get far, girl. Might as well come on back.” But she kept running, darting to her left where the brush turned into woods, and sprinted. What if the guy had a dog? He’d find her in no time. But she hadn’t seen one in the truck, so maybe he didn’t.

She didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t go back there. Worse yet, she felt her back pocket as she ran?she didn’t have her phone.I’m fucked, she told herself as she ran, her lungs burning and feet aching. The thin athletic shoes she was wearing were no match for the terrain, and yet she kept going. Those years and years of living in Appalachia, climbing ridges and hills along the back of her grandpa’s property in Hurricane Branch southeast of Pikeville, helped. She channeled that adolescent girl as she ran, praying she’d get far enough away that he couldn’t possibly catch up to her.

She didn’t know how long she’d been running when she finally collapsed. Her legs were scratched and cut by briars she’d darted through, and her hair was a tangled mess, sticks and leaves caught in it from low-hanging branches and tall bushes. Flora listened intently, but it was silent?too silent. She was a long way from the house. How far, she wasn’t sure, but it was a long way. And it had started to get dark.

When she finally caught her breath, she got up and started walking again. The farther she got from the house, the more comfortable she grew. Of course, in that instance, comfortable was a relative term. She had numerous bug bites and all the scratches were starting to itch too. Some of them had most certainly been poison ivy, oak, or sumac, and she’d have a raging rash for sure, but that beat death. She’d just keep walking. Maybe Barrett would figure out what she’d done, climb on his four-wheeler, and come looking for her. But how would she know it was him? What if it was asshole Darryl or the man who’d just broken into the house?

And what of Mrs.Murphy? Was she okay? She obviously hadn’t shot him or he couldn’t have yelled for her. That could only mean one thing…

As she stumbled along, Flora cried. Mrs.Murphy’s house was the first home she’d had in years. Now her elderly charge was most certainly dead, and it was all Flora’s fault. There were no sounds behind her, but she kept moving, afraid to turn back. The sun was setting in her face, so she knew she was going farther and farther away from the house, and that was what she wanted. She didn’t hear sounds of cars, so she was nowhere near a road.

When it was almost too dark to see, she found a small cluster of short evergreens and sat down in its circle. Anyone who walked by would be unable to see her. She was hungry and cold, and she’d cried until her eyes were swollen. She only had one hope left.

Barrett. If he realized she was gone, maybe he’d come looking for her. Or maybe he’d be so damn mad about Mrs.Murphy that he’d just let her be. And that would be okay. Flora just wanted to die. Nothing had gone right in her life since DarrylStevens had walked into it.

And she was pretty sure it never would again.

* * *

Once he knewDarryl and Bradley were long gone and Frankie had reported that he and LeeLee were still on their tail, Barrett headed out to Bud. Kirby and Jonas had waited until everyone had cleared the parking lot, then left to meet up with Conor and talk about the things that had transpired. Bud assured Barrett that he’d been glad to help, and they agreed to meet for coffee when the whole mess was over.

Once he got in the truck, Barrett turned on the radio. He could hear the chatter, and through it came LeeLee’s voice. “Central dispatch, this is MCDS unit twelve forty-nine, repeat, unit twelve forty-nine. Location, highway sixty and Olivet Church Road. Operation Handbag is deployed. Repeat, Operation Handbag is deployed. Over.”

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